


The Undergrove

by AugusteLarson



Category: Les Miserables, Les Misérables - All Media Types, les mis
Genre: AU - Fantasy, Boarding School, Cosette is a blessing, Cw blood mention, Gen, Grantaire-centric, Honestly it's just a gay vampire story that isn't super gay or vampirey, Idk what i'm doing, Les Amis - Freeform, Monsters, Nephilim, Probably eventually ExR, Shapeshifters - Freeform, Supernatural - Freeform, Valjean and Javert are low key tight in this, Vampires, Werewolves, Witches, cw death mention, dad!valjean everyday, enjolras and Grantaire roommates, mentions of underage drinking in first chapter
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-13
Updated: 2017-10-31
Packaged: 2018-05-26 09:00:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,579
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6232516
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AugusteLarson/pseuds/AugusteLarson
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After a killer party (literally), Grantaire wakes up at a sanctuary for teenagers with fantastic abilities and/or supernatural abilities. Adjusting to this new world is easy enough, but surviving?</p><p>It's exactly the set up of X-Men, just fantasy, not even going to lie, but I'm probably not going to build up a life-or-death plot with an evil villain. Read to fulfill whatever domestic supernatural teenager fantasy you haven't had fixed by reading countless YA lit series.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1 : Dying Is the Most Fun a Boy Can Have Without Taking His Clothes Off

Grantaire wasn't sure if he had ever been as drunk as he was on the night he died. Hell, if he hadn't been so lucky as to have died early in the night, there was no doubt that he would have ended up in the hospital to have his stomach pumped and face his disappointed parents. They would just love to get a phone call in the middle of the night:

"Hi, we're calling about your son. He's in the hospital on account of his own teenage stupidity." Grantaire's parents probably would have even taken away his car for such an ordeal. He was an athlete, though, and more than expected to drink at a party celebrating the hockey team's victory at States. His parents had even told him that they would pick him up after the party- like they had known their son would be drinking and were okay with it. 

What a night it had been. The Eagles, Grantaire's team, won 14-17 and after a victory dinner with the coach at a Chinese buffet, the team moved into an after party at the old train tracks. Whoever had brought the alcohol must have also sent out a text message to half the school because at least a hundred kids showed up in the first hour alone. And, oh, they drank. All of the glory found in those high school movies was playing out before Grantaire's eyes. At one point, someone lit a bonfire and Grantaire watched unintelligently as people fed gasoline, aerosol cans, and even tires to the fire.

By midnight, Grantaire had worked up the courage to talk to a boy that he had never seen before but had grown more and more infatuated with as the night went on. The boy was short and thin, frail maybe, dressed for an occasion far more sophisticated than a bonfire. Grantaire had first noticed him hovering by the fire, then followed as the boy walked into the woods alone. Intoxicated, Grantaire had decided that the boy had meant for him to follow. They _had_ been exchanging glances.

"Hey." Grantaire had called out for the boy, running up and stumbling over a stray branch to meet him. They stood in a clearing, the first boy leaned against a tree and Grantaire standing just a few feet away. 

"Why are you following me?" The boy asked.

"Do we, uh, go to school together?" This seemed like a good enough icebreaker. They could discuss similar teachers or clubs or interests. Then they could ruffle each other's hair and taste each other's tongues. 

"No."

"Then you're from the college?"

"No."

"Who are you?" _Maybe he's graduated already and just stopped by_ , Grantaire thought.

"You look drunk."

"I've been drinking."

"Did you tell your friends you were following me?"

"No, they, uh, they're busy celebrating."

"Right." The boy approached and Grantaire felt himself melt. The boy must have had the darkest and prettiest eyes in the world. He had freckles on his cheeks and when the boy touched Grantaire's own cheek, the boy's slender hand was cold.

"What's your name?"

"It doesn't matter." The boy whispered. 

\-----

"Hello?" Valjean answered the phone in a daze, rolling over in bed to check the time on his alarm clock. The green light read "1:27." Valjean would have to be up in a few hours to prepare for and then go on with the day. 

"I've got a kid for you." A deep voice on the other end of the line said.

"Javert?"

"It looks like a vampire attack. I figure you're the best to handle him if he turns."

"Where are you?"

"Raleigh, about thirty miles north. I can meet you halfway in Chesterfield - at that gas station. You know the one." Valjean did know that particular gas station because it seemed to be a good place to stop while heading down south. He and Javert had met there twice in the past.

"I'll be there."

Jean Valjean was one of the few men in this world that Javert could stand. Things had not always been this way, though, and the pair had met years ago and in another lifetime. Valjean had been raised in a small town, in a smaller community of werewolves and shape-shifters. When he was still a young man, he'd been jailed for robbing a convenience store at gunpoint for food. As you can imagine, life in prison was not suitable for a man such as Valjean. He was a shapeshifter and his only chances of survival stood if he learned to control his anger. Anger was a fatal flaw that sometimes pushed Valjean over the edge. He was always in control of how he shifted, all except when he became too hot with rage. 

It was in prison that Valjean met Javert, a young guard with elven blood. As a child, Javert heard stories of men like Valjean, who could shift into animals at will, and the pair grew close over time. Javert saw the threat of Valjean and was determined to train the shifter to be in control of himself. Valjean, alternatively, persuaded Javert to see that things were not necessarily as black and white as Javert thought the law to be.

Both men reflected on their strange relation as they drove towards that gas station in the early hours of the morning. Now, nearly twenty years later, Valjean was doing well for himself in an inherited role as a keeper of a small community for children with fantastic and unlikely gifts whole Javert was the sheriff of a small town. 

"Where'd you find him?" Valjean asked, examining the bloodied body in the back of the police cruiser. 

"There was a high school party that we broke up. He was in the woods. He's still breathing."

"We don't have any vampires at the Seminary."

"I won't have him roaming the streets once he wakes." 

And that was that. 

\-----

Grantaire wasn't entirely used to waking up in rooms that weren't his own, but assumed that it wasn't a good start to, what he assumed, was morning. He collected himself, trying to remember the night, and couldn't find his glasses on the nightstand. Standing up, he turned to toss the bedding and maybe uncover his glasses.

"Oh-" Grantaire was taken aback by red stains covering the sheets and pillow. He looked down, seeing that similar stains covered his arms and clothes. This is just like Carrie, he thought. _The blood is fake, it's a joke, it's pig blood_. He must have been involved in a prank gone awry. 

The door opened suddenly, surprising Grantaire. He turned, facing a small brown-haired girl dressed in a large pink dress.

"This isn't what it looks like." Grantaire heard himself say, though he wasn't certain what exactly _this_ was.

"Don't worry about it." The girl said, smiling. "I'm Cosette, I figured you'd need some new clothes and borrowed from my boyfriend. They should fit." She handed Grantaire a pile of clothes. He didn't look at them, deciding that the clothes weren't the most important thing to focus on.

"I'm... What happened?"

"Oh, you'll need to wait for my father to tell you. He'll be out of a meeting any minute now. You can change out of that when I get the sheets."

"Right... Where's the bathroom?"

"That door." She motioned towards a door that Grantaire hadn't noticed further in the room, near what he supposed was a closet. As he walked towards the bathroom, Grantaire realized that the room seemed impersonal and rather sterile. It wasn't a bedroom at all, maybe a dorm room?

"Thanks."

Now, Grantaire wasn't picky when it came to clothing. At home he had a variety of vests, hoodies, jerseys, and t-shirts. Around the holidays, he was the first to wear the festive sweaters that his grandmother had knitted for him. In summer, Grantaire was particularly fond of brightly colored shorts and Hawaiian shirts that would put every suburban dad to shame.

But the one thing Grantaire had always avoided like the plague were suits. He despised ties and the way that the fabric clung to his skin. When he was eight, Grantaire had been the ring bearer in his aunt's wedding and that whole ordeal had been enough for Grantaire to abstain from suits for life.

Except Cosette had brought Grantaire a suit, figuring that it was something that Marius, her boyfriend, wouldn't exactly miss. Not only was it a suit, but the jacket's fabric was an absurd salmon color and the pants white. He put the suit on, glad to have clothes that were clean, but regretted having to wear such an outfit. 

As Grantaire watched himself in the mirror, he noticed how pale he looked. Not only did his skin seem bleached to a pallid olive tone, but his brown eyes seemed far lighter. He shrugged, deciding that it was the hangover causing it. Maybe all of this was a strange hangover dream and he would wake up back home. 

"Ah, it looks good on you." Cosette said as Grantaire exited the bathroom. She took his bloodied clothes and placed them beside the sheets she had stripped from the bed. "We used that for the winter formal two years ago."

"Thanks... Did you, uh, I had a pair of glasses?"

"I didn't see them."

"Hello?" A very large man entered the room and Cosette smiled again.

"Daddy, this is..?" Grantaire realized that he hadn't shared his name.

"Oh, sorry, I'm Grantaire."

"I'm Jean Valjean, and you've met my daughter Cosette." The large man held out his hand for Grantaire and they shook hands. Valjean had a very strong handshake.

"Yessir."

"Is that Marius' suit?" Valjean asked.

"Doesn't he fill it out?"

"Cosette, can you go find Julien and find something for Grantaire to drink? I'm going to talk to him now."


	2. I Constantly Thank God For Cosette

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a new note because I am revising this story, though it's been literal years. So, expect something soon. - Auguste, October 2017.

Cosette departed and Grantaire was led by Valjean down a wide hallway to a small office with a single window, which Valjean tightly shut the curtains to. The building reminded Grantaire of a school or maybe a strange office complex.

"How are you feeling?" Valjean asked, taking a seat behind his desk. Grantaire sat oppose him, in one of the two chairs there for guests.

"Where am I? And who are you? Who was that girl? How did I get here?"

"Right... Lots of questions." Valjean leaned back. He hadn't ever wanted to be an authority figure or a mentor, but his own mentor had had died nearly six years ago and asked that Valjean took over for him. Valjean had been a laborer beforehand, he didn't know how to run things that weren't machines. 

"Are you going to answer me?"

"Yes, you're at the Seminary. It's of no religious affliction - don't worry - the building had once held a college for ministers, but the property is redundant. Only the name persists. Now it's a school for gifted children."

"And you are?"

"I'm Jean Valjean. I'm like a groundskeeper here, but I also deal with administration."

"You're like a principal." Grantaire concluded and Valjean's face light up.

"Yes, precisely."

"And that girl?"

"Cosette, my daughter."

"Why was I covered in blood?"

"What do you remember from last night?" Grantaire hesitated before answering.

"My hockey team won, I went to a party... I was drunk and I'd been with this guy... That's it. I remember being in a car."

"This is difficult to explain." Valjean said blankly.

"Mr. Valjean," A blonde-haired boy burst through the door, his face red as though he'd been running. Grantaire could hear his heartbeat echoing, a strange pulse that made him uncomfortable. "I didn't break that window."

"Julien, sit."

"Who's this?" The boy, Julien, asked. 

"This is Grantaire."

"Oh, this is for you then." Julien produced a paper bag from his own book bag, the latter of which was decorated with endless pins, and handed the paper bag to Grantaire.

"Uh, thank you?" Grantaire opened the bag, an aroma escaping that made Grantaire salivate. He reached in, pulling out a bottle of crimson liquid. "Is this a joke?"

"Just drink it." Valjean said and Grantaire thought back on all the stories teachers used to tell him in school about taking things from strangers. The scent was too good, though, almost hypnotic. He was sure that this was all an elaborate prank, now, with the reoccurring theme of fake blood. 

Grantaire took a long sip, then another, and another. He finished the bottle without regard and placed the bottle carefully back in the bag before placing the bag at his feet. The taste and texture were indescribable, instantly lifting Grantaire's spirt. He felt a sudden warmth inside, despite the drink being cold.

"What was that?"

"Blood, right?" Julien asked, looking at Valjean. Valjean nodded.

"Are you fucking kidding me? I just drank blood?"

"Grantaire, last night you were found in the woods by a friend of mine. We brought you here because you'd be safe."

"Safe? I just drank blood, I'm going to die of some blood-borne parasite now-"

"Will you shut up?" Julien asked. "You're already dead, if you want to be technical."

"You're a vampire, Grantaire."

\-----

Grantaire had walked most of the campus, determined to work through the troubles which filled his mind. As a child, he had always been faint around blood and would cry at even the sight of a skinned knee. While he'd grown out of that, the idea of drinking blood for an eternity seemed a little unsavory. _You liked it_ , a voice in the back of his mind told him and it was the type of voice that demanded attention. 

He also debated how serious of a condition this could be. He'd seen his reflection, here he was walking in the sun with only the slightest of tingling to the skin. What if the only difference was this new lust for blood? He could handle that, right? If he didn't age, he only had a little more than a year left of high school and then he could move to the city and start anew and anonymous.

All of it was an extremely strange revelation. In a way, Grantaire felt like he had stumbled into an entirely different universe. Yesterday was that of victory, today was a newly minted place in existence. Yesterday, Grantaire would have laughed if someone had told him that vampires, werewolves, and all those quaint fictional monsters were real. Were ghosts real too? Now, and perhaps with a dulled inattention, Grantaire wasn't suspended in disbelief. This was just how things were now. He wouldn't have been anymore shocked if someone had told him that the Easter Bunny and Santa Claus were real- which, as far as he knew, they weren't.

It was in the late afternoon that Cosette found Grantaide, curled under a tree by the border of the campus. He was watching the evening fade through the bars. 

"You okay?" She asked, sitting down beside him.

"I'm great." Grantaire said, adjusting himself so that he wasn't too close to the girl.

"My dad said he'll take you home tomorrow if you still want to go. I mean, you should wait, but he's willing to drive you." 

That had been another thing that busied Grantaire's mind. Valjean had offered him a way out of having to explain his situation to anyone. The offer was simple, a place to live and learn about this new world. Apparently Grantaire had the luck of waking up in a school that was brimming with magical creatures and teenagers with strange abilities. It was Hogwarts, if Hogwarts was in rural Connecticut; Perhaps more of that school from X-Men, those cartoons that Grantaire had watched when he was younger.

"I don't know what to do." Grantaire confessed. Staying here was on par with faking his own death or at least running away from home.

"You need to weigh your options. This is a great place for folks like us."

"I don't want to be like this."

"I know."

"What if I hurt someone?"

"It'll be a mistake, but you can't constantly worry about it." She was kinder than Grantaire expected, a type of sweet that was sincere and not overacted. 

"That's all I can think about. I've got a brother back home and I don't know what I'd do if I hurt him."

"I'm a witch." Cosette said. "I've known since I was a little girl and I still have difficulty controlling my powers sometimes. But, I'd go mad if I worried about it constantly."

"Is there any way for me to be human again?"

"No. You might want to know - we learned this in biology - vampirism is a virus. You're essentially sick; but not in a bad way. You were fed the blood of someone infected."

"And there's no vaccine?"

"No."

"I can't go home, then."

\-----

Grantaire tried not to lose his way, checking door signs and eventually finding room 57. Between balancing a box of clothes that Cosette had collected from other students and the drama department, a map of the school, and a folder of information that Cosette said would be "useful," Grantaire was overwhelmed to finally sit down. He inserted the key, opening the door, and was met with the sour face of the blonde boy from Valjean's office.

"Hey." Grantaire said, trying to not to drop the box of clothes. "I guess I'm your new roommate."

"There's no need to introduce yourself, I know who you are."

"Don't give me that look, I'm completely normal."

"What's normal for the spider is chaos to the fly." The boy walked away from the door and Grantaire followed him, setting the box down on the messy dresser.

Posters for various social events that Grantaire had never heard of adorned the wall. There were photographs, too, of boys doing all the things that teenagers did. There two beds, two dressers, and two desks. From what it looked like, Enjolras had been living alone for some time and using both of the desks. Papers and books were stacked up the wall, overflowing a bookshelf. The bed that was being used most often was by the window, so Grantaire took a seat on the other one.

"Yeah, yeah. You're that kid from Valjean's office?"

"Julien Enjolras."

"Do you quote the Addams Family regularly, Enjolras?"

"It's a good line."

"What are you?" Grantaire asked, figuring that he deserved to know if his roommate was going to be practicing black magic in the night or sacrificing him to Satan. 

"That's rude to ask."

"C'mon, you what I am."

"Nephilim." Grantaire quickly wondered if the word had any relation of "nihilism."

"Which means?"

"I'm part angel."

"Fascinating. So, did it hurt when you fell from heaven?"

"I'm an earth-dweller. Where are all your belongings?"

"This is it. Cosette said she'd try to get the stains out of my jeans, but I think it's a lost cause."

"That's why you're in Marius' suit?"

"Yeah."

"There's a mini fridge in the closet, Valjean had it dropped it off earlier for you to put your stash in."

"My stash?"

"The blood?"

"Oh, right."


	3. That Green Gentleman (Things Have Changed)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ayyy, if you've previously read this fic: Thanks for coming back to it after a lengthy and unplanned hiatus. You know how things go, but I'm back. I've been revising the first chapters over the last few days, so please take a look back on things because there have been a few minor structural changes.  
> If you've just stumbled onto this fic: Wassup, I'm Auguste and sometimes I can put words together. Please enjoy.

Classes at the Seminary were far different in subject matter from the high school that Grantaire had attended. The core subjects - reading, writing, and math - were neglected based on the assumption that the basics of each had been taught preceding the ninth grade. In a perfect world, there would have been a board of education to mandate higher education for this little niche market that Grantaire had fallen into. Grantaire wasn't even sure what to call all these people and creatures that he was being introduced to. They were people, for sure, but they weren't human.

His schedule placed Grantaire in the following classes:

\- Magic In the Western World

\- Introduction to Biology

\- Human Studies

\- Astronomy

\- Culinary Arts

\- Gym

Among the tragedies of Grantaire's life, which seemed more and more numerous as the days passed, it seemed peculiar to him that Valjean had refused to make arrangements to let Grantaire join an advanced course that was not related to food.

"What do I need a class like that for?" Grantaire had asked, entering Valjean's office early one morning.

The schedule had been slipped under the door to Grantaire's dorm overnight. Enjolras had taken distinct pleasure in mocking the other boy over what misfortune it was to put a vampire in a class for cooking. Grantaire had wondered if he was allergic to garlic like the folklore said, but didn't dare to ask.

"It's the only one that's available." Valjean had said. "You're entering late in the term."

"Can't I use it for a study hall?"

"Six classes are the minimum required, I'm sorry."

\------

Grantaire showed up to class on the first day with a sense of complete mortification. He knew no one in that class, which was to be expected. In the two days that Grantaire had been at the Seminary, he had seldom left his dorm room.

He was glad to be in the same class as Cosette for biology. The teacher, an older woman whose name had been preluded by Sister, introduced Grantaire to the class quickly, placing him at the only empty seat towards the rear of the class beside a very sturdy looking boy with a green tone to his skin who seemed to mind the class even less than Grantaire.

"I'm Grantaire." Grantaire had held out a hand to the boy, deciding that if he was to form friends that a boy much bigger than anybody else would be best.

"Bahorel." The boy took Grantaire's hand and nearly crushed it with an inhuman strength.

Wincing, Grantaire tried to smile through the pain. "Nice to meet you."

Bahorel wasn't much for company during the class because he was busied with drawing death metal band logos with flames and skateboards and the like. It was great fun to see that children, human or not, were the same.

\------

Human Studies was the only class that Grantaire had chosen for his schedule. He had found joy in knowing that there was an entire class dedicated to studying the very thing that he was- or that he had been. If anything, that was to be the class that Grantaire would pass. Everything else was just supplementary and unwanted. 

Yet, just a few minutes into class, Grantaire found the course to be less than pleasant. The instructor, a ghastly man of at least seventy years, had sat Grantaire at an empty seat on the side of the room. He, then, with the most offensive mumble, began to drawl on about human sports such as football and soccer.

 Grantaire had no reason to be upset about the topic being sports, he had played hockey for the entirety of his life, but the professor was so boring and made everything about humans sound like the acts of animals. The tackling and cheering, the crime rates among players, and the riots formed by spectators.

"Sir, will we be able to go to one of these events?" A boy on the opposite side of the class asked, his friends laughing along.

"Heavens, no."

After the class, Grantaire tried to make a rush for the door. He was feeling faint, hunger in his belly and a certain blueness taking over his hands. He had decided that meant he was in need of a drink. 

"Hey, you." 


	4. Casual Affair

Grantaire was suspicious of what intentions seemed to be lurking in the souls of the boys who had declared him their friend. The apparent pack leader was a boy named Courfeyrac. He was witty and seemed sincere, but Grantaire had known many boys just like that in his old life. Courfeyrac was quick to take Grantaire under his wing, excitedly telling him how they shared many classes and whatever Grantaire needed was fine because they would get along fine. 

"Oh, you poor thing, you must be so frightened by all of this."

"I'm fine."

"You don't have to lie to me."

"What's with this place? I feel like none of it's real." 

They were walking into the cafeteria at lunch and Grantaire was amazed by the student body. He had been taking his meals in his room over the previous days, but now Courfeyrac had insisted that they sit together. It seemed better that Grantaire make friends or at least be social. Finding that people weren't particularly judgmental towards him was comforting. He had only a couple stray comments about "bloodsuckers" and the "fucking turned." Courfeyrac had told him not to mind it, that it was just normal playfulness from some of the school's top-tier jerks.

"It's very real... Hey, you can ask them to get you something to drink." 

\------ 

They sat on the far end of the cafeteria, Courfeyrac introducing Grantaire to a variety of people who were all very strange. Bahorel, the boy who was in Grantaire's morning biology class, was in the group and had been arm wrestling a small girl with a dark complexion.

"Époniné." She said, softly, when introducing herself. A moment later, she brought Bahorel's arm down against the table with a thud.

"You cheated." The boy cried out.

"How?"

"You know." Bahorel said, shaking his arm out. Grantaire wondered how such a small girl could be so strong as to beat a man who's handshake had nearly crushed Grantaire.

"How are you liking the Seminary?" A boy named Marius asked. Grantaire realized that this was Cosette's Marius and that he was responsible for the horrid suit that Grantaire had first been placed in.

"It's... I've never been to a place like this before."

"It's wild, isn't it?" Courfeyrac purred. 

"How come people- humans- don't know about this?"

"Because they don't want to."

"I'd been at a party, surely some people have to know about magic and whatever?"

"It's the Undergrove, it's protected."

"That's what this is called?"

"Well, no, not the school. That's the local term for us, I guess, it's a New England thing. I'm sure they call it something different in all parts of the world."

"That's stupid."

"I didn't make it up."

Across the hall, Grantaire could see Enjolras enter. He was his impeccable self, making his way into line with an air of grace. Grantaire sat up, trying to see him better.

"Hm?" Courfeyrac had noticed Grantaire's fixation and looked too. He frowned when he saw the source of admiration.

"You should be careful around a guy like that."

"He's my roommate."

"I know."

"He seems alright."

"Nephilim shouldn't be trusted."

"What did he do?"

"Courf? Do you have the homework for HS?" Someone that Grantaire didn't know asked. Courfeyrac stopped staring at Enjolras and nothing more was said about the topic.

\------

That night, Grantaire wary of Enjolras. They did their homework in quiet and stole glances at one another. Enjolras had seen Grantaire at lunch and knew what must have been said. He knew that Grantaire must have hated him now and wouldn't have been surprised if Grantaire had spent the afternoon begging Valjean to switch roommates. 

"You, uh, don't happen to take astronomy?" Grantaire asked.

"No."

"Oh, alright."

"Are you getting along? With school and everything?"

"Uh, yeah... I guess."

"Say you've heard the rumors by now?"

"The rumors?"

"About last semester?"

"No."

"Courfeyrac didn't-"

"Do you guys hate each other or something?"

"Yes, I guess."

"We have a lot of the same classes."

"He's a good guy."

"And he doesn't like you?"

"It's complicated."

They went back to working in silence.

**Author's Note:**

> Pleeze no hate, I am a simple gay author who lives in the woods and eats only 2 bark and several leaf.


End file.
